Well . . . it couldn’t be helped. Part of Rosalind’s appeal was her crusader-like devotion to her cause, and he couldn’t fault her for working hard. Apparently she was so busy that she hadn’t even returned his latest telephone call in person but had her brother leave a message with his housekeeper. Were he the suspicious type, he’d almost think she was avoiding him.
It was six o’clock before he arrived home. It was a rich man’s apartment, but the furniture was ordinary and plain. He didn’t feel comfortable with gilded decorations or fussy knickknacks. Everything here was masculine, strong, and well-made.
Everything except the nursery. He supposed he needed to start calling it something else now that Sadie was three years old, but her room had the best of everything. A miniature piano, a rocking horse of carved ebony wood, and a dollhouse that looked like Versailles. On the other side of the room was a shelf of books, a map of the world, and a trunk made to look like a treasure chest and filled with the best toys available.
Sadie sat at a miniature table with her nanny, who read to her in French.
“Bonne soirée, Monsieur Drake,” the nanny chimed.
“Hello, Jeannie,” he replied. He had no idea what she’d just said, but it was important for Sadie to know foreign languages, and he’d hired a pricey French nanny to be sure Sadie would someday speak the language like a native. He’d hired another tutor to teach her etiquette, and an overpriced chef to ensure she acquired an appreciation of fine food. Someday Sadie would attend a highfalutin boarding school, and he didn’t want her being embarrassed by not knowing the difference between caviar and capers. He couldn’t teach her these things, which was why he had a staff to help.
Sadie vaulted across the room the moment she spotted him. “Did you miss me, Daddy?”
He scooped her up and whirled her in a circle. “I always miss my best girl!” he boomed, causing a cascade of delighted squeals. He was still laughing as he set her back down. “Aunt Lucy and Uncle Colin are joining us for dinner. Won’t that be nice?”
“Do I have to wear my fancy clothes?” she asked with a little frown.
“How do we dress when we have visitors for dinner?”
“In fancy clothes.”
“Right you are,” he said. “Let’s have Jeannie help you change into one of your new dresses and put your hair up with some of those classy ribbons. You’ll be pretty as a picture.”
He went to inspect the dining room, nodding in approval at the array of fine china and rows of silverware lined up like sentinels beside each place setting. In the center of the table stood porcelain serving bowls and silver candlesticks. This wasn’t how he or Lucy grew up, but his brother-in-law had attended school with Queen Victoria’s grandchildren and took this sort of dining for granted. Nick wanted Sadie to, as well.
Lucy and Colin arrived, and she pressed a fancy apple tart into his hands as she and Colin breezed inside. “Where is this woman I’ve been hearing so much about?” she asked. “The world-famous research scientist?”
“She couldn’t make it,” Nick said gruffly. “Off performing her world-famous research duties.”
Maybe he’d exaggerated the “world-famous” part a bit. Rosalind avoided publicity like a bat fleeing sunshine, but he was proud of her and wanted to show her off. More than that, he wanted to introduce her to his family. Maybe it was a little premature, but he was tired of being alone, and Rosalind seemed as eager as he. That was what he adored about her. She was refreshingly open, without a trace of artifice.
“How was the funeral?” Lucy asked the moment they were all seated. Her voice was cool, but she couldn’t mask the curiosity on her face.
“Sad,” he said. It was the only word he could think of to describe the half a dozen mourners standing awkwardly before a feast prepared for hundreds.
“And Margaret didn’t serve you a poisoned cup?” Colin asked.
The disdain in his voice rubbed Nick the wrong way. Margaret wasn’t a perfect woman, but Nick didn’t delight in seeing her crushed beneath a wall of grief and complete social ostracism.
“She was hanging in there,” he said. Barely. Her husband was dead, her adored son was in jail, and the daughter she’d never seemed to want was nowhere to be seen. It still bothered him that he hadn’t seen Ellie in almost twenty years. He twisted the stem of his water goblet, staring at it and wondering how to frame his question. “Do you have any contacts in Rome?” he asked Lucy. As a telegraph operator for the AP, Lucy received transmissions from journalists stationed all over the world. He knew enough about the way telegraph operators gossiped with each other over the wires to suspect she might know someone in Italy.
“The AP has four or five correspondents in Rome, but I don’t have any special affiliation. Why?”
“Aunt Margaret says Ellie is living in Rome. That she’s a famous pianist. Is it true?”
“I have no idea,” Lucy said with a shrug. “I haven’t thought of Ellie in years.”
“Who is Ellie?” Colin asked.
“She’s Aunt Margaret’s other child,” Lucy replied. “She was a surprise baby and a lot younger than Tom Jr. It was so strange. Margaret doted on Tom as though the sun rose and set on him, but never had any time for Ellie and always shunted her aside. It was hard not to feel sorry for her. She was so eager to play with the rest of us, but Tom was so horrid to her that inevitably she’d start to wail and cry. Then Margaret would swoop in and order Ellie from the room. Usually to go practice on the piano.”
Ellie had showed remarkable talent for so young a child, but she didn’t seem to enjoy it much. All she’d wanted was a little attention from the older kids. Nick was the only one who ever gave it to her, but he wished he’d been kinder.
“If Ellie has become a well-known pianist in Europe, it would be reported in the newspapers, right?” he asked.
“Possibly,” Colin replied. “The news agencies get reports of concerts when a composer debuts a new piece or when royalty are in attendance. So sometimes yes, sometimes no.”
That wasn’t good enough. Nick’s curiosity had been stoked, and he wanted to know more than just where Ellie was. He needed to know what had happened to her. Now that Uncle Thomas was dead, it was time for this family feud to end.
“Don’t you think it’s strange that she’s never returned to New York? Aunt Margaret and Uncle Thomas spoiled Tom Jr., even though he never did anything noteworthy other than plot and scheme. And they’ve supposedly got a daughter who has kings and princes coming to hear her play, but they never breathe a word of it? I don’t buy it.”
Lucy picked at the fish on her plate. “This flounder is so tender. I wonder if your chef might share the recipe?”
“Would you please stick to the topic?” Nick asked in exasperation. “Can you ask one of those AP reporters in Rome if they know of a piano player named Ellie Drake?”
“Nick, you’re being ridiculous. That’s not how it works.”
“Then tell me what to do!” he exploded. “I need to find out what happened to her. She’s family, Luce. Don’t you get that?”
Sadie’s face screwed up at the sudden tension in the room, and he hauled her onto his lap to bounce her on his knee.
“I get family, Nick, and we’ve always had a good one,” Lucy said, her voice a combination of hurt and exasperation. “I never considered the Saratoga Drakes to be in any way related to me. They were merely snakes who lurked in my nightmares, ready to lash out, steal, and squash us. Through everything, you and I were always united. We walked through fire together and came out stronger on the other side. I wouldn’t recognize Ellie Drake if she knocked on my front door. You wouldn’t either.”
Wrong. Ellie’s forest-green eyes welling with tears as her mother dragged her away from family gatherings haunted him to this day. It wasn’t possible to forget eyes like that. From the day he was old enough to wear long trousers, he’d always felt protective of the women in his life. Whether it was making sure Lucy’s childhood tricycle was in good work
ing order or opening a door for a lady on the street, women were to be protected. Sometimes he could be a little blunt about it, but he didn’t know how to stop. Something told him that Ellie was in trouble, and he wanted her to know she wasn’t alone in the world.
“Sorry, Lucy,” he said with a casual air. “Don’t think anything about it.”
Colin set down his fork, his face unusually somber. “Don’t trust Margaret Drake,” he warned. “That woman is a viper and doesn’t know how to be anything else.”
Wrong. Margaret had gotten a college degree and was helping the poorest immigrant women in the city learn to speak English. There had to be some good in her somewhere.
“I hear you, Colin.”
That didn’t mean Nick was going to pay any attention to him.
Chapter
Ten
Rosalind scrutinized the water sample beneath the microscope. It was the thirtieth sample she’d tested this afternoon, and it was as good as the others Dr. Leal had collected from various points throughout the city. Their test was working.
Soon there would be more testing than the two of them could handle on their own. Dr. Leal had agreed to use students from the nearby college to help. By the end of the week, they would have an additional twelve students to collect and test samples.
As she recorded her findings in her notebook, a chugging noise from outside broke her concentration. Nick was the only person she knew who had an automobile, and she darted to the window to look.
It was him! She was partly thrilled, partly horrified that Nick was here. He’d arrived in his ridiculously glamorous automobile with a little girl beside him. His daughter? Rosalind dropped the notebook and raced down the hallway and out the door. Maybe she could find out what they wanted before he had a chance to get inside the lab.
The rackety engine sputtered to a halt, and Nick met her gaze, stopping her in her tracks with his dazzling white smile.
“Dr. Werner!” he shouted as he vaulted out of the car. “You’re back.” He gave her a wide smile.
“Pardon?”
He strode to the other side of the automobile and lifted the girl out of the vehicle. “We were here earlier this morning and knocked on the door. We must have missed you.”
“Oh.”
“This is my daughter, Sadie,” Nick said with pride. “Sadie, this is Miss Rosalind.”
My goodness, Nick’s daughter was a pretty little thing, looking up at Rosalind with curiosity in her wide blue eyes. Her dark hair was pinned to let sausage curls dangle from the crown of her head.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Rosalind said, not quite sure how to speak to a child.
Nick’s smile was part eager, part nervous. “I thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to meet because . . . well, just because, I guess.”
“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said, even though she wasn’t. If she’d known he was coming, she would have put away the large map of Jersey City that showed the testing locations. The map was clearly labeled “chlorine concentrations.”
“We stopped by around ten o’clock this morning, but there was no one here,” Nick said. That was because she had gone to meet Dr. Leal out at the reservoir to collect more samples.
“We looked in the window,” the little girl said.
“I see.” The last thing Rosalind wanted was anyone prowling around the lab, even if it was someone as uninformed as Nick and a little child. If they’d seen that map, he would have questions about it.
“Sadie has never been inside a research laboratory, and I wanted to show her.”
He was clearly asking to go inside. It was a warm afternoon, and Nick swatted at a gnat that buzzed around his face. Standing out here was awkward, and refusing to let him into the lab might trigger suspicion.
“Then by all means, let’s go inside.”
Rosalind would have to take the map down and hide the stack of notebooks that had “chlorine concentrations” printed on the front label. Prickles of sweat broke out over her skin as they walked down the dim hallway toward the lab. She didn’t think he’d be able to figure out what she was doing, but his unexpected presence rattled her. She would have to lie, and she hated that.
Nick was several paces behind her, holding Sadie’s hand as the girl scurried forward. He was telling her not to touch anything and to be on her best behavior for Miss Rosalind.
Rosalind hurried ahead and yanked the map off the wall, then rolled it up. She was wiggling it into a tube as Nick stepped inside the lab.
The first thing Sadie did was lunge toward a row of glass beakers. Rosalind gasped and lifted them away. “Not a good idea to play with the typhoid,” she said. The samples were dead, but still. . . .
Nick scooped the girl up, holding her securely against his chest. “I think this will go better if I carry her,” he said with a grin.
“Probably.”
He looked around the lab. “I thought I might meet Dr. Leal today.”
“No, he’s out in the field.” She declined to add anything else. The less said about their work, the better.
An uncomfortable silence stretched in the room.
“What a pretty dress you’re wearing,” she said to Sadie.
A sudden surge of bashfulness caused the girl to bury her face in Nick’s neck, but Rosalind’s comment about the dress was true. It was surely the most expensive dress Rosalind had ever seen on a child, full of lace, pin tucks, and deeply set gores in the short skirt. A child’s purse of matching fabric was tied to her wrist, and glossy patent leather shoes completed the outfit.
“We wanted to look our very best to meet Miss Rosalind, didn’t we?” Nick prompted, and the girl nodded against his neck, still unwilling to show her face. “I’ve been telling her about you,” he whispered.
“You have?” Rosalind said.
“I think about you all the time,” he said in an even softer voice, making her catch her breath. Then the spell was broken as he jostled the child, prompting the girl to lift her head. “Miss Rosalind is going to show you what she does in her lab. She is a very smart lady,” he said as he flashed Rosalind a wink.
That wink sent a bolt of electricity straight through her. Somehow, seeing this bold man being so tender with his daughter made him even more appealing, even as Rosalind wished he wasn’t here.
Using the most basic terms, she showed Nick’s daughter the beakers of water and how she used special magnifying tools to look at things that were too tiny to see. There was no hope of getting a child that young to focus a microscope, so Rosalind decided to show them to the sitting area and serve some cool lemonade from the refrigerator.
Lemonade that had been made with chlorinated water. She hadn’t thought about that until the glass was in Sadie’s hands, Nick steadying it as she drank. It was perfectly safe, but guilt crashed down on Rosalind at the thought of what Nick would say if he knew his daughter was drinking chlorinated water. The instant Sadie set the glass down, Rosalind moved it to the other side of the sitting area.
“So does Dr. Leal ever spend any time here, or are you doing all the work?” Nick asked.
“He does plenty of work.”
Nick snorted. “I’ve been here three times and never seen him.”
“I told you. That’s because he’s out in the field.”
“You don’t need to sound so defensive. I wasn’t accusing him of anything.”
She looked away, wishing his visit hadn’t made her so apprehensive. It wasn’t Nick’s comment that upset her, it was that what happened in Germany still haunted her. “I’m sorry,” she said, all the heat in her voice gone. “It can be a delicate situation. Dr. Leal and I work so closely together, and sometimes it can cause unseemly comments. And then if we aren’t seen working together, other people assume that either he’s doing all the work or I am. It’s a no-win situation.”
Nick nodded, but he still seemed ill at ease, staring out the window while he appeared to struggle for words. “I saw him testify in court
,” he said. “He’s still a young man. And a widower. Have you . . . I mean, both of you have been to college and share the same interests. It seems to me that you might—”
“No. We don’t. There has never been anything but a professional relationship between us.” At last she could speak with complete honesty and candor. Dr. Leal was the soul of kindness and professionalism, but she didn’t find him attractive in a romantic way.
Silence stretched between them. Nick’s gaze wandered around the lab again, lingering on the soil samples in glass jars. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t ask about them.
“Would you like to go for a drive with me?” he said.
“Yes!” She’d only ridden in an automobile a few times, and she didn’t care for the racket, but she’d gladly accept his invitation if it meant getting him out of the lab.
As she slid onto the automobile’s bench covered in rich leather with deeply set squabs, Nick walked to the front of the engine and began manipulating cranks and levers to prime the engine. When he braced one hand against the fender and bent forward to grab a lever on the base of the engine, Sadie scooted to Rosalind’s side, pressing her little body against her.
“This is when it happens,” the girl said.
“Ready, Sadie?” Nick shouted.
“Ready!”
He gave a mighty jerk on the lever, and the engine roared to life. Oh my! What a loud chugging noise. It made the whole car vibrate.
Nick hopped into the seat beside Rosalind and flashed a grin. “We need to wait a minute until it starts purring,” he said.
“Purring?”
“Shh, just listen.”
How could she not listen? Even with both hands clamped over her ears, the noise was awful. Then the clatter slowed . . . smoothed . . . and relaxed into a steady hum. She lowered her hands.
A Daring Venture Page 11
